


avenging your sister's murder(s), and other fun family activities!

by silent_h



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, and tbh they'd probably do something like this too, apart from maybe the snarts, listen the lances are the most extra siblings ever, sort of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silent_h/pseuds/silent_h
Summary: in which the lance sisters show their love in increasingly strange and competitive ways, and, on a completely unrelated note, felicity needs better friends





	avenging your sister's murder(s), and other fun family activities!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frea_O](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frea_O/gifts).



> completely forgot to post this here, whoops
> 
> originally posted [here](https://yesokayiknow.tumblr.com/post/165448739600/freaoscanlin-that-thing-i-said-i-was-going-to), inspired by [this](https://yesokayiknow.tumblr.com/post/162760327985/dragonwitch21-amuseoffyre)

“Is that,” Felicity says, slowly, “a finger?”

“Yep,” Laurel says.

She looks tired, and there’s a smudge of soot on her cheek. Or maybe blood. Is it better if it’s her own blood or if it’s someone else’s? Is that a weird thing to wonder when Laurel’s holding a severed limb in a ziplocked sandwich bag?

“Her trigger finger, actually.”

“Her?”

“The woman that killed Sara.”

“Sara’s  _dead_?” Felicity yelps. “Wait, you  _cut off her finger?_ ”

Laurel grimaces, before she pulls a neatly folded piece of lined paper out of her pocket. She spreads it flat on the desk, and Felicity leans forward to read it.

 

_if i’m killed then make sure they can’t kill anyone ever again and do it in like the most painful way possible please. i’m talking like permanent mutilation but not too much blood because nate will puke and don’t kill them because i want them to live with their regret. and also before you do it tell them it’s for me and then say an awesome one liner. thanks love you, avenge me_

“Wow,” Felicity says, a little blankly, and Laurel huffs a laugh.

“Yeah,” she says.

She pulls out the chair next to Felicity and almost melts into it, exhaustion rolling off her in waves. Felicity goes to pat her shoulder, before she realises that there’s another reddish brown smudge there.

“And you did it?” she asks, instead.

Laurel raises an eyebrow. Right, yeah, finger in a ziplocked bag.

“And the one liner?”

Laurel sighs, dropping her head.

“’I guess now I’ve got the upper hand’,” she mumbles.

“That’s not that bad.”

“I couldn’t think of something to do with fingers that wasn’t dirty.”

“I mean, it’s Sara,” Felicity grins, before her smile drops, because oh. “ _Was_  Sara? I just got used to her being around again,” she says, quietly.

“It’s  _Sara_ ,” Laurel repeats, before she pulls a face. “That  _is_ confusing. But she’ll be alive again soon,” she shrugs, and then winces at the action. “I just wish she’d put more thought into figuring out who would kill her than into her stupid plan.”

“Sara’s team didn’t know who she was?”

“The Legends have pissed off literally every person they’ve met,” Laurel points out, which, yeah. “I had to retrace every single one of her steps since she joined the team. Do you know how many steps that was, Felicity?”

“A lot?” she guesses.

“A lot.”

“So now what?”

“Now I sleep for a week. And get Sara to pay for the therapy I’ll inevitably need.”

Felicity snorts. “If only there was a way to stop her from pulling weird stunts like this.”

“Yeah,” Laurel says, considering. “If only.”

 

-

 

“Oh,” Felicity says, surprised. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

It had been a long day and she’d been looking forward to getting home and changing into something comfy and digging into a freshly opened pint of ice cream.  She hadn’t expected to find Sara leaning against her kitchen counter and glowering so hard at the floor that Felicity almost checks for scorch marks.

“What,” Sara says, viciously, “you didn’t catch my show?”

She slides her phone across to Felicity, video already queued up, and then makes impatient gestures until Felicity presses play.

It’s a shaky cell phone video of a man being led in handcuffs from the courthouse, and Felicity finds herself focusing more on the bad quality than the actual content. Suddenly a woman in black leaps out of the crowd, and Felicity straightens up, eyes widening. The woman grabs the man by the collar and whispers something in his ear, before shooting a grapple gun at a nearby rooftop and disappearing into the night.

“So who is that exactly? And what did you say to him?”

“That’s the guy who killed Laurel. And I  _forgave_ him.”

No.  _No_. Felicity saw Laurel two hours ago and she’d been  _fine._

“Relax,” Sara says, at her panicked look, “we brought her back.  _Future tech_ ,” she says with a grin, because she never misses the chance to brag about her team’s technological prowess, even when in a mood.

“I didn’t even know that Laurel was going after this guy, never mind that she got in deep enough that he killed her.” She frowns at that. “Wait, how did  _you_  know?”

Sara pulls a face, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She throws it to Felicity, who only just catches it.

“You could’ve just passed it to me,” she mutters, as she carefully flattens it on the counter.

_Sara, if you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead. For the past week or so I’ve been trying to bring down a man known as Samuel Thomas, and I’ve been going after him as both the Black Canary and the DA. If I am dead, then he’s the mostly likely culprit, and I need you to make sure that he’s brought to justice. However, I want him alive, Sara, and I want you to be the bigger person when the time comes._

 

It carries on in the same tone, over to the other side of the paper, and stopping mid-sentence at the bottom of the sheet.

“You seem to be missing some,” Felicity points out.

“That’s because it was  _three pages long!_ ” Sara hisses.

“Oh.”

She’d like to say she’s surprised, but she’s long gotten used to Laurel’s habit of writing verbosely. Thea has an entire Instagram account solely dedicated to posting Laurel’s ridiculously detailed grocery lists, and the rest of the team have been taking bets on how she’ll react when she finds out about it. Felicity’s bet fifty bucks that she already knows and is pretending not to as part of some long con.

“Does she write one of these out every time she goes after someone? That’s a  _waste_ , Felicity. And look at this paper! How does she even afford it?”

Felicity frowns, looking between Sara’s unimpressed face and the, admittedly very fancy, paper. “You gave it to her? The last time the Legends were in town?”

“So not only did she make me publicly forgive him, but now I’ve got to find her some fancy paper!”

“I don’t know if  _that_  really counts as publicly.”

“That’s not the  _point_ , Felicity.”

“And the point is?”

“The point is that it’s revenge for me making her avenge me.”

Oh. Oh no. Felicity needs to do damage control,  _right now_.

“I don’t know if that’s-”

“ _It’s on_.”

Too late.

 

-

 

“Have you ever,” Laurel says, through gritted teeth, “had to rip a guy’s arm off and beat him to death with it?”

One day, a vigilante’s going to break into Felicity’s apartment to give her  _good_ news. Or at least, neutral news, that won’t give her horrifying nightmares.

“Can’t say that I have,” she says, finally.

“I don’t recommend it.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Laurel huffs, before she slides down to the floor and kneels there, face down on Felicity’s coffee table. It doesn’t look very comfortable.

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence while Felicity fidgets, trying to find the words to ask.

“No,” Laurel says, her voice muffled by the table, “I didn’t keep the arm.”

That’s something, at least. Maybe Sara decided to be a little bit more merciful this time around.

“She wanted me to gild it and send it to his next of kin.”

Oh. Maybe not.

 

-

 

Felicity’s hatewatching CSI when the couch suddenly rocks, and she turns to see a very murderous looking Sara perched on the cushion next to her. She didn’t even hear her come in.

Sometimes Felicity thinks that she’s lucky to have so many friends in the superhero scene, because or else she’d have probably been murdered  _years_  ago.

Felicity rolls her eyes, pauses the episode, and waits. They sit like that for a minute, Sara glaring at the still screen, and Felicity resisting the urge to sigh.

“So-”

“A  _statue_ ,” Sara says. “She made me build him a  _statue_.”

Wow. Okay.

“Why?”

“To show that forgiveness makes us better than them or something, I don’t _know_. Some stupid moral that we’re all meant to learn from the situation.”

That does sound like Laurel. Or it did. And it will be again, Felicity reminds herself, firmly. Sara wouldn’t be here at all if Laurel still needed help.

“And do you know,” Sara continues, voice dangerous, “what she made me cover the statue with?”

There’s a small gold coloured stain on Sara’s hoodie. Felicity very carefully doesn’t look at it.

“Silver,” she says.

“Ugh,” Sara groans, “you’re as bad as she is.”

 

-

 

Felicity knows that face. Felicity  _hates_  that she knows that face.

“What did she make you do,” she sighs.

“I had to track them down and kill them.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad? I mean, depending on your moral viewpoint of killing.”

Which is something that they should probably discuss. Later. When Felicity isn’t busy putting the  ~~baby team~~  new recruits through their paces.

“It just kind of seems a little vanilla for Sara?”

Laurel coughs.

“…never using the word vanilla while talking about your baby sister again. Got it.”

“Thanks. And no, it’s just,” she gestures, vaguely, “time travel.”

“What about it?”

“She made me kill them  _before_  they killed her. And now that they’re dead, Sara never dies, so I never kill them, so they’re actually alive. Or something.”

“Or something,” Felicity echoes.

Sometimes Felicity wishes that she had got an invitation to that rooftop, and sometimes she wishes that time travel had never been invented. Will never have been invented?

“So doesn’t that cause some sort of…?”

“Paradox? Yep. Apparently, it’s a time master’s worst nightmare. It will torture them for the rest of their days until they finally embrace the sweet release of death.”

“Oh,” Felicity says, blankly. “That’s a little dark.”

“Yes,” Laurel says. “Yes it is.”

 

-

 

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Sara says, brightly, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s July and you’re wearing a fur coat?”

Sara never really seems to get cold, unlike Laurel, who’s hidden at least three blankets in every room in the base. The last time the Legends visited Laurel spent the entire time huddled up with Jax, to Sara’s irritation and Thea’s jealousy.

Felicity stares at her, eyes narrowed, and after a while Sara’s overly bright smile drops into a scowl. She sighs, and unzips her coat, to reveal a printed t-shirt. With Sara’s face on it.

“Why,” she says, finally.

“Why do you think?”

“No, why is Laurel making you wear it?”

“Apparently, my ego’s too big, or something.”

That’s it? Felicity was expecting something more elaborate than that. Sara’s last request was literally murder, and Laurel isn’t exactly the kind of person that takes a challenge like that lying down.

“How long do you have to wear it?”

“For about a month. Continuously.”

Oh. That’s more like it, she supposes.

“At least it’s not a bad picture?”

“Well, obviously.”

At least Laurel was right about Sara’s ego.

“So when do you take it off to wash it,” Felicity asks, fascinated.

Sara cheek twitches.  _No._

Felicity darts forward and places her head near Sara’s chest, before quickly pulling back.

It  _reeks_ and anyone who gets closer than a foot to Sara will be able to smell it.

“She took away your game,” she realises, and Sara stiffens.

“No, she just, put it on hold,” she says firmly. “ _Temporarily._ ”

“No, it’s  _brilliant_ ,” Felicity breathes, “because the only people that wouldn’t mind the smell would be in the past, but you can’t go there because the t-shirt has a  _photo_  on it, and it would be introducing future tech. That’s- Wow.”

It’s terrifyingly well thought out, really. The only thing worse to Sara than having to be the bigger person is her ego _,_ and Laurel’s effectively shut that down for a month.

“I  _guess,_ ” Sara admits, grudgingly. “Can’t believe she managed to pull something this twisted without using like, murder or something.”

“That’s not a high bar.”

“It is on  _my_  team.”

 

-

 

“So there’s this assassin-”

Felicity starts, squinting at the blurry figure perched on the end of her bed, and then at the red numbers on her alarm clock. So she’s been asleep for… some amount of time. Definitely a small number. It’s too early for math, and for whatever this is.

“What,” she manages.

“So this assassin,” Laurel continues, “his whole raison d’être is his job, right, it’s a part of him. Killing people isn’t just what he does, it’s what he  _is_.”

Felicity silently reaches out for her glasses. The Laurel shaped blur sharpens into Laurel, who, despite the ridiculous time, still looks like she’s just walked out of a photoshoot. A part of Felicity hopes that the room is dark enough that Laurel isn’t able to see her bed hair and dried drool, and another part hopes that Laurel is able to see the massively unimpressed look on her face.

“So guess what Sara wanted me to do.  _Guess_.”

Felicity can barely form words at this time in the morning, never mind guesses.

“Kill him,” she tries, and Laurel laughs, getting up to pace.

“Now  _that_ ,” she says, arms moving wildly, “ _that_  would make sense but  _no_. Instead, she wanted me to kill her so he couldn’t!”

“That’s horrifying,” Felicity says, automatically, before her mind catches up. “Wait, you killed  _Sara_?”

“ _Of course not_ ,” she says, shaking her head. “I refused to kill her, obviously. She had to go and deal with him herself and–”

“Hold up,” Felicity says, latching on the most important word, “you  _refused_?”

“Do you really think I’d go through with that?”

“Does that mean you’re finished with your competition?”

Laurel stops pacing at that, tilting her head to the side. “What competition?”

Felicity stares at her. What competition, she says, as if Felicity hasn’t spent the last few months being forced to watch the Lance sisters try to one up each other to prove that- Wait, what were they trying to prove again? Which one of them is the pettiest? Which one of them can irritate Felicity the most?

“I’m going back to sleep now,” she says, putting her head back down on the pillow with a satisfying thump. “If one of you comes up to me sometime between now and the end of next week then I’ll kill you myself. Goodnight.”

“Your glasses are still on your face,” Laurel says, after a moment.

“Goodnight,” Felicity repeats.

“Okay.”


End file.
